


Apathy and entanglement

by embeer2004



Series: A vampire, his blood-brother and his witcher [6]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC) Spoilers, Caring, Depression, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Pack, Post-Blood and Wine (The Witcher 3 DLC), The Witcher 3 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 08:55:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15882762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/embeer2004/pseuds/embeer2004
Summary: Dettlaff and his pack had tried everything in their power, but this time Regis’ black mood was more tenacious. He needed to be distracted from his own mind, get moving; at least, that’s the belief Dettlaff had. A trip to Toussaint to visit Regis’ beloved Geralt seemed like the perfect distraction and perhaps by the time they arrived he’d be in lighter spirits. If not, well… Geralt knew about Regis’ episodes, Dettlaff was certain they would both do their best to aid their dearest friend, in whatever way possible.Travelling to Toussaint, Regis could feel the cold dark tendrils slowly releasing their grip from his mind and, when he and Dettlaff arrived at Corvo Bianco, he felt more like himself again. His mind certainly got the distraction Dettlaff had been hoping for when Yennefer asked them to go and look for the witcher; as she was being summoned to the ducal palace it was only right that Geralt was at home to serve as their host.Now they just had to find him…





	1. The apathetic vampire

**Author's Note:**

> Please see the tags!

**_Hollow. Cold. Sadness._** Those were just a few of the dark and gloomy sensations Dettlaff could pick up from Regis through the bond they shared.  
   
Regis sat huddled in his favourite chair, cocooned in the woollen blanket Dettlaff had draped over his shoulders earlier. The katakan pups were hovering near him, trying to get his attention with soft purring noises and gentle pats to whatever limb they could reach, yet the older vampire wasn’t responding to them; instead, Regis was staring straight ahead, doleful eyes gazing dully into nothingness.  
   
Dettlaff breathed in deeply, keeping a tight rein on his own emotions so that he could send only **_love_** and **_warmth_** through their connection; his brother didn’t need to know how agitated and frustrated he actually was.  
   
The pups were relentless in their venture to have Regis acknowledge them in any way and behave more like his usual self, but they stayed within the limits of what Dettlaff deemed acceptable behaviour. By now they knew not to crowd Regis too much when he was in one of his black moods. They’d all witnessed how their beloved packmate’s essence was consumed periodically, leaving behind only a dim shade wearing Regis’ form. Regis was still in there though, hidden away, deep inside himself, and the youngsters knew this and wouldn’t be discouraged from their efforts.  
   
They hadn’t given up on Dettlaff either, when he’d returned after the catastrophe that had been Beauclair, and it had taken him _months_ to become more like his old self again. He had vague memories of the pups pestering him until he’d interacted with them, demanding more and more attention whenever they succeeded to draw him from his thoughts. Dettlaff felt a warmth in his chest at the memory.  
  
Regis’ hand slowly moved out from between the folds of his blanket, reaching down to stroke a small furry head once before limply falling into the vampire’s lap. Regis’ chin drooped to his chest, as if that slight movement had utterly exhausted him.  
   
Dettlaff balled his hands. Regis had been suffering from a black mood ever since the new moon had passed the sky and last night the moon had been at first quarter; it felt like there had been many more moons in between, an eternity’s worth of them.  
  
He’d had to cajole his apathetic friend and brother into eating and taking care of himself, something that Regis luckily did do eventually, yet his sombre presence in the house was impacting every pack member, big and small. It was an arduous feat for them, balancing between being there for Regis and letting him know he was loved, and allowing him some space when it seemed the gentle vampire was feeling smothered. Dettlaff had learnt the hard way that incessant hovering had an ill effect. Lesser vampires couldn’t control their emotions as well as higher vampires and with his empathic ability Regis tended to pick up on others’ emotions quite easily; the distress of a packmate only added to Regis’ own distress.  
  
Dettlaff sighed. Nothing seemed to interest Regis when he got like this. Not reading, not brewing, not even their pack, and Regis loved their pack with all his heart.  
  
The mood would pass, it always did, yet Dettlaff wished for the thousandth time that he knew what would aid its departure along so he could do something about it. Seeing the gentle vampire hanging listlessly in his favourite chair, ignoring the pleas of the young pups, made Dettlaff feel like his belly was invaded by wriggling maggots. He wanted to embrace Regis and comfort him, but he was uncertain whether his friend would allow it right now.  
   
Luckily, even if Regis couldn’t handle anyone else near him, he would still allow the katakan pups near. Regis had once told him, after he’d recovered from one of his dark moods, that the small creatures only radiated **_love_** at him and even if he didn’t, _couldn’t_ , respond to them right away the feelings they radiated never changed.  
  
Dettlaff walked over to Regis and knelt down in front of him. The katakans moved a bit to the side to make place for him, hovering near still.  
   
“Regis?” He slowly reached out and started stroking the back of his friend’s hand with a gentle thumb. “Dear friend, I know you are likely not feeling up to anything right now, but mayhap we could try a change of scenery? What do you say we go and visit Geralt? Try to re-integrate me more into human society?” Dettlaff knew there were a lot more humans at Corvo Bianco; Geralt and Regis often exchanged letters and the witcher regularly provided a little update on the happenings in and around his home. It would be a good test for him to see how he reacted to them. Too many of them in too small a space still disquieted him, memories and feelings of guilt rampaging through him the few times he’d tried, but Geralt had already offered him and Regis the use of his guest room, so if anything happened he could retreat to a safe place.  
   
Regis kept staring ahead for several more minutes and Dettlaff was fearing he would be ignored completely, but he waited. Patience was the key here and luckily he could be very patient; one didn’t take on the arduous task of regenerating a nearly completely disintegrated vampire unless they were prepared to spend many years of effort on them.  
   
His patience was soon rewarded as Regis slowly cocked his head, a frown marring his brow. Then the hand under his own turned and Regis’ fingers grasped his. Dark eyes drifted shut.  
  
Dettlaff lightly squeezed his hand. “Regis? What do you think?”  
   
Regis inhaled deeply, once.  
   
Dettlaff couldn't prevent his **_frustration_ ** and **_helplessness_** seeping through the barrier he'd erected in order not to flood Regis with his own emotions.  
   
Immediately, Regis shrunk in on himself, pulling his hand back to his chest, inside the blanket; his **_guilt_** and **_sorrow_** coming through loud and clear. The vampire was trying to make himself as small as he could, pulling his legs up on the chair and trying to hide his face behind them.  
   
**_Anguish._** The wriggling maggots tore up Dettlaff's belly in their frenzy and before Regis could object he had enveloped the older vampire in a near crushing embrace. He nuzzled his cheek alongside Regis’ and closed his eyes. **_Love. Protectiveness._**  
   
First silence. Then… a shuddering breath. “I’m so sorry, Dettlaff,” Regis forced out, pressing his forehead into Dettlaff’s shoulder, his body rigid and tense.  
   
Dettlaff squeezed him tightly for a moment before loosening his hold, though only slightly. “This is not your fault, brother, you needn't apologise.” **_Love._**  
   
Regis’ arms reached out from the blanket and circled around Dettlaff’s back, returning the hug. The vampire sighed softly and Dettlaff felt more of Regis’ weight settling against him as his body relaxed. The older vampire nodded into his shoulder. “Visiting Geralt…” he murmured, shifting his head until it rested in the crook of Dettlaff’s neck, “very well...”  
   
Dettlaff breathed out a sigh of relief. The travel would give Regis’ mind something to focus on, and perhaps by the time they arrived in Toussaint he’d be in lighter spirits. If not, well… Geralt knew about Regis’ episodes; he’d admitted to Dettlaff that he’d stumbled upon Regis’ journal, but even before that he’d known. Geralt was a remarkably observant human. If Regis wasn’t feeling more like his usual self by the time they arrived at the witcher’s place he was certain they would both do their best to aid their dearest friend, in whatever way possible.  
  
Dettlaff rested his head on top of Regis’ and tightened his embrace slightly. “Let us leave on the morrow.”  
  
He was gratified when Regis tightened his hold in return and nodded, and he heard a small sigh escaping the vampire’s lips. “On the morrow…”


	2. The sorceress of Corvo Bianco

Regis and Dettlaff arrived in Toussaint one week after setting out from their home in Nazair.  
  
On the morning of their departure, Regis had still felt hollow and empty, as though he’d been trapped deep underwater on an ocean’s floor and sounds, light and warmth had been far out of his reach. Gravity’s pull had increased by a magnitude of immeasurable order, making placing one foot in front of the other an arduous task.  
  
Dettlaff, oh so gentle and caring Dettlaff, had calmly encouraged Regis to change into his mist-like shape. It had taken a while for Regis to remember how to shed his human skin, but his blood-brother had patiently waited until he remembered. Then they’d swirled away, heading north and east, Dettlaff hovering nearby, making sure he kept up. Every once in a while the young vampire had swirled around him, pressing him down to the ground, indicating it was time to change shape and get some rest. Regis had appreciated those small intervals, feeling exhausted especially in the beginning of their journey. He hadn’t felt up to talking then, but Dettlaff had sensed it and had only nudged him to eat, drink and rest, giving him space otherwise.  
  
With every day that passed Regis had felt like the water of his underwater prison was evaporating; the ocean becoming shallower, sounds becoming less warbled and the light seemed brighter. More importantly, the cold slowly released its hold until he could feel the warmth of the sun and the familiar feeling of warmth Dettlaff often purposefully sent along their bond whenever he was feeling distressed. Finally warm again… even after all these years Regis hated the cold and he shuddered to remember the icy fog that had been his timeless existence, before Dettlaff had found him.  
  
*  
  
By the time they’d neared Toussaint Regis was feeling more like his usual self, though if he encountered Dandelion he wasn’t sure he would be able to keep up with his dear bard. The dark tendrils of his despondency had nearly fully released their hold on his mind and he knew his spirits would improve over time, but right now he wasn’t in the mood for idle chat. Dandelion would understand; his friend noticed more than he let on.  
  
With a quick look around to make sure he wouldn’t be spotted, Regis materialised into his human form some distance from Toussaint’s tourney grounds.  
  
Dettlaff, noticing the change, shifted as well and crossed his arms in front of his chest, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Regis grabbed the strap of his shoulder bag and started fiddling with the leather. “Geralt and Yennefer know what we are, yet the other humans at Corvo Bianco do not. I do not wish to raise suspicion…”  
  
“All right, we shall continue on foot.” Dettlaff uncrossed his arms and nodded at him. “How do you feel?”  
  
Regis felt his lips twitching up, a fond smile appearing without him having any say in it. **_Love._** “Thankfully, much improved. Thank you, Dettlaff, for all your patience and care.” **_Guilt._**  
  
**_Warm. Love. Calm._** Dettlaff stepped closer and gently grasped the back of his skull, pressing his forehead to Regis’ for just a moment before stepping back. “You are my blood-brother, my pack. We look out for each other, remember?”  
  
Regis snorted, hearing his own words being used against him. “Indeed, dear Dettlaff.”  
  
~*~  
   
When they arrived at the villa of Corvo Bianco their first human encounter was Barnabas-Basil. The majordomo was sitting on the bench near the front door, enjoying the sun. Seeing the two arrive, he quickly stood up, bowing his head slightly. “Welcome back, master Regis,” he greeted, glancing at Dettlaff.  
  
“Master Foulty, this here is my dear friend Dettlaff van der Eretein,” Regis introduced, wondering a moment too late whether it had been wise to reveal Dettlaff’s real name. “Dettlaff, this is master Barnabas-Basil Foulty, majordomo of Corvo Bianco estate and vineyard.”  
  
The majordomo crossed his arms behind his back and stood up even straighter than usual. “Thank you for the introduction, master Regis. A pleasure to meet you, master van der Eretein. Sir has ridden out for the day, but Lady Yennefer is in the garden. Shall I take you to her?”  
  
Dettlaff’s eyes darted over to Regis. **_Worry._**  
  
Regis understood; the last sorceress Dettlaff had encountered was still a cause for nightmares to the young vampire, and before that he’d seen what Vilgefortz had done to him. As a result Dettlaff was extremely wary of any magic users. Soon he would learn that he had nothing to fear from Yennefer, as long as he presented no threat to her or her family.  
  
**_Calm. Safe._** Regis took a step closer to his blood-brother, feeling a warm fondness whirling in his chest at the thought that Dettlaff was doing this, travelling to Toussaint, being among humans again, meeting a sorceress… all for him. **_Love._** “If you would be so kind, master Foulty. Please, lead the way.”  
  
Barbabas-Basil bowed his head and held out his arm, indicating for them to follow. He led them over a short bridge covering the small stream near the villa and then turned left, guiding them uphill. Within a moment they had arrived at the place where Yennefer was lounging on a chaise, a book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.  
  
Hearing them approach, Yennefer looked up. A fond smile appeared on her face when she spotted them. “Regis!” She closed her book and put it and her glass on the small table next to her before standing up and walking over to embrace him. “Such a pleasure to see you again, dear friend.”  
  
Returning the embrace, Regis inhaled surreptitiously, smelling lilac and gooseberries. He was so grateful for all that she had done for Geralt, for what she _meant_ to him. Ever since the two of them had retired to Toussaint Regis had noticed a change in his friend and the witcher radiated a calm and content Regis had never known him to have before. He let go and took a step back, towards Dettlaff.  
  
Violet eyes roved over Dettlaff’s form. Yennefer’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, then the lines in her face smoothed and one corner of her mouth pulled upwards in a knowing smile.  
  
“Yennefer, allow me to introduce to you my dear friend Dettlaff van der Eretein.” Regis touched Dettlaff’s arm and looked up at his blood-brother. “Dettlaff, meet Yennefer of Vengerberg.”  
  
“A pleasure, Dettlaff,” Yennefer greeted, inclining her head at him, “I’m glad to finally meet you in person; Geralt and Regis have told me much about you.”  
  
Dettlaff looked back at Yennefer, a determined gleam in his eyes, though Regis could sense he was still a bit nervous. “The sun shines on the hour of our meeting, Yennefer.”  
  
Yennefer stepped closer to him and peered deeply into his eyes. Her fingers twitched at her sides but she didn’t reach out to touch him; perhaps she was picking up on his thoughts? The sorceress smiled. “I have been wanting to tell you this for so long in person and now I finally can. Thank you, Dettlaff, for finding Regis… for taking care of him, returning him to us.”  
  
A light blush appeared on Dettlaff’s face and the younger vampire ducked his head. “No thanks are necessary. Regis is an old and dear friend, I’m glad I could be there for him.” **_Love._**  
  
**_Love._** Regis lightly squeezed Dettlaff’s arm one final time before stepping away.  
  
Yennefer directed her gaze to her majordomo. “Thank you for leading them up here, B.B. Regis and Dettlaff are dear friends and our door will always be open to them.”  
  
Barnabas-Basil was unperturbed by the nickname; he’d suffered Geralt and Yennefer butchering his name for years already. “A pleasure, Lady Yennefer. May I be of further assistance to you?”  
  
Yennefer looked thoughtfully at the two vampires. “Will you be staying for a while? I cannot imagine you travelling all the way for a quick visit, unless you’re passing through?”  
  
“If you’ll have us we would be glad to stay, and thank you for your offer. I do apologise for our rudeness in showing up unannounced…” Regis trailed off, not wanting to discuss the reason for their sudden visit. He was quite certain that Dettlaff would be telling Geralt, worrying packmate that he was. The last couple of weeks hadn’t been easy for the young vampire either. Dettlaff needed someone to talk to who’d understand and he’d come to trust and respect Geralt. That was fine… he couldn’t help his dear friend and brother with this. He couldn’t even help himself.  
  
The sorceress waved her hand. “Nonsense, you’ll always be welcome here. Would you like anything to eat, or drink? We have a lovely Sepremento stored in the cellar and Marlene would be delighted to whip something up for you.”  
  
Regis cocked his head and looked at Dettlaff, seeing the younger vampire nod his head at him, a question in his eyes. “Dettlaff and I would love to try some of Corvo Bianco’s famous wine, but perhaps the Sepremento is better opened when Geralt is around to enjoy it as well? Our dear witcher told me there are only a few bottles remaining of the older vintages.”  
  
“Posh. When the Sepremento is gone there are other good wines around. Do not worry about it, but if you’re really set against opening one of those bottles how about a bottle of Erveluce instead? Accompanied by a cheese platter with some grapes and meats?”  
  
“The Erveluce sounds appealing,” Dettlaff said, “let’s leave the Sepremento for when Geralt’s back.”  
  
“All right, Erveluce it is,” Yennefer agreed. “B.B, would you please bring us a cheese platter and the wine? And our friends will be staying over, could you have the servants prepare the guest room for two?”  
  
“I shall see to it at once. Master Regis, master Dettlaff,” Barnabas-Basil bowed low, “I shall take my leave now. If you need anything during your stay, please do not hesitate to reach out to me.”  
  
“Our thanks, master Foulty,” Regis replied.  
  
*  
  
Barnabas-Basil quickly returned, placing a tray with a delicious looking assortment of cheeses, grapes and meats on the low table next to the chaise. A bottle of Erveluce stood in the middle of it, accompanied by three empty glasses. Seeing them all still standing the majordomo grew pale. “How remiss of me, I shall have the servants bring out some chairs at once!”  
  
Yennefer walked up to him and touched his shoulder. “No need, B.B, I shall take care of it.”  
  
The majordomo clenched his jaw, but he cocked his head. “As you wish, my Lady,” he uttered before returning back to the villa.  
  
When it was just the three of them Yennefer held out her hand towards Dettlaff, palm upwards. “Now let’s take care of the seating situation. Dettlaff, you know I’m a sorceress, right?”  
  
**_Unease._** Dettlaff nodded. “I do.”  
  
“Good, I only thought it decent to give you some warning before fetching some chairs. I didn’t want poor Barbabis-Basil walking up and down again when I can just as well have some over in a couple of seconds,” Yennefer told him. “I understand your wariness of sorcery and magic and you do not know me yet, so please know that you’re safe here. You’re Regis’ pack and I know you care about Geralt; I’ve considered you a friend long before meeting you in person. With your permission I shall proceed now?”  
  
The younger vampire released a loud breath and the hands he’d unknowingly clenched into fists relaxed again. “Thank you for your consideration. You may proceed.”  
  
Regis felt a warmth settling in his chest; Yennefer had remembered. If it had been anyone else the sorceress wouldn’t have treated them as gentle as she did Dettlaff. Usually she just did what she wanted, startling people on purpose. **_Warmth._**  
  
“All right.” Yennefer held her hands out in front of her and spoke some words in Aen Seidhe. Her hand started glowing with a white light and in a flash two comfortable looking chairs had appeared across from the chaise.  
  
There was a brief moment of **_fear_** coming from Dettlaff before the vampire calmed down. It would do him some good to interact with a friendly magic user and Yennefer was an excellent woman for this.  
  
“Please, have a seat. Take some food. I’ll pour the wine,” Yennefer offered, setting out to uncork the bottle.  
  
*  
  
The three of them enjoyed a pleasant meal out in the garden, enjoying the warmth of the sun. In the distance Regis could see some dark clouds; with the direction of the wind coming from the west the clouds were sure to reach Corvo Bianco around the evening.  
  
During the meal Yennefer was the one doing most of the talking and for that Regis was glad. While he was very fond of her and would love to converse about all sorts of things, he didn’t feel up to a lot of talking right now. His spirits were much improved compared to last week, but even sitting here he could feel a dark tendril reaching out to stroke his mind, trying to drag him back under into a watery abyss. He needed to be distracted from it and Yennefer’s stories were helping.  
  
He suspected that she sensed something; the sorceress was very aware of other’s emotions and thoughts, especially when she was close to someone. Geralt may certainly complain about it every now and then, but Regis knew he was secretly pleased that Yennefer’s mind automatically sought out his own, even after the djinn had broken the spell binding them together. She had seemed to pick up some emotion from Dettlaff earlier as well. Now that was very interesting, there were not many humans who could pick up on a vampire’s emotions. Perhaps he could discuss this with her… later.  
  
Suddenly the sounds of hooves resonated uphill. A galloping horse, clearly in a rush. Regis looked down to one of the entrances into Corvo Bianco to see a rider on a gray horse stopping just inside. It wasn’t Geralt. The man dismounted, hurriedly looked around and, seeing the stairs, set off in that direction.  
  
“Regis?” Yennefer called.  
  
“A man has just arrived, he certainly seems to be in a rush,” Regis informed her, standing up and grasping the strap of his shoulder bag.  
  
Dettlaff stood up as well, trying to look over Regis’ shoulders, followed by Yennefer.  
  
“Not him again!” Yennefer groaned when she saw the rider. “Please excuse me for a moment, I’ll take care of this. Stay here, don’t let him see you.” With that the sorceress went down to greet the man.  
  
Regis and Dettlaff waited, staying where they were. Yennefer had seemed more annoyed than worried, so it likely didn’t have anything to do with Geralt, but what then?  
  
After several minutes the two vampires could make out the gray horse leaving Corvo Bianco, the rider urging it into a gallop again.  
  
Yennefer came up the hill, her shoulders hunched, hands balled into fists. When she saw the vampires she visibly forced herself to relax. “Regis, Dettlaff, I apologise but I have to go to the ducal palace. The Duchess has _demanded_ my presence to discuss the matter of a collapsing bridge near Lebioda’s statue. I was a court sorceress, not a mason!” She inhaled deeply and held her breath for a few seconds before slowly releasing it. “But as a subject in her lands I shall oblige her, Geralt and I have grown quite fond of our retirement home and after…” Yennefer looked at Dettlaff, stopping her rant. “Ah well, perhaps it will be something of actual interest and not just sloppy workmanship.”  
  
**_Guilt. Sorrow._** Dettlaff’s jaw clenched.  
  
Regis walked over to him, pressing his side flush against him in support. **_Sadness. Love._**  
  
“Oh stop it, you two,” Yennefer scolded, revealing that she _did_ sense their emotions. “The situation was a dire one, I do not disagree, but we cannot change the past, and from what Geralt told me it was the only sufferable outcome. Now dear friends, quit your moroseness and do me a favour, if you will?”  
  
Feeling like a scolded pup, Regis looked up, immediately alert. “What can we do?”  
  
Yennefer walked up to him, her face softening and a slight smile appearing on her lips. She reached out to his whiskered cheek and cupped it in her hand. “Dearest Regis, always willing to help…” She stepped back and addressed both vampires. “Geralt has left Corvo Bianco just after sunrise, taking Roach with him. He said he’d travel first to the windmills of Sansretour Valley before travelling west from thereon out; see if he’d encounter some merchants in need of help. He’s taken on some vintner’s contracts lately, clearing out a cave here and there and he was looking forward to taking on similar contracts. Will you please go out and find him? You know how he can get, taking on one contract after the other. With me being summoned to the ducal palace though he should return to Corvo Bianco so that he can serve as your host.”  
  
Regis smiled. “Most certainly, Dettlaff and I will go and find our dear witcher.”  
  
Yennefer looked up at the younger vampire. “Thank you, both of you. When you find him, tell him I’ll return within a day at the most.”  
  
Dettlaff returned her gaze. “We will.”  
  
“Good, now don’t startle, I’m going to create a portal,” Yennefer warned them just a moment before she lifted her hands and a yellow swirling disc appeared.  
  
**_Fear._** Dettlaff growled and took a step in front of Regis, pushing the older vampire back, away from the portal.  
  
Regis placed a hand on Dettlaff’s back. **_Calm. Safe._** “Good luck, Yennefer.”  
  
With a wry smile, the sorceress stepped into the swirling disc and disappeared, the portal closing behind her.  
  
Regis walked around from behind Dettlaff. “Well,” he said, catching his brother’s gaze, “let’s hunt us a witcher.”


	3. The entangled witcher

And indeed a hunt it was. Dettlaff and Regis had first set off in a northern direction, towards the windmills, hoping that even though Geralt was certain to have passed by many hours ago someone would have remembered seeing the witcher, and in which direction the man had set off.  
  
Someone working at the windmills pointed them up north, towards Castel Ravello’s vineyard and, once there, the two vampires were told that the local witcher had taken one look at the notice board, picked up a contract, and had left again.  
  
“What was the contract? Do you remember?” Regis asked the woman in front of him.  
  
“Well I’d have to glance at the ones remaining now to make sure,” she replied, “but luckily I do know which one would be missing. I’m checking the notice board every day, some of the notices people post are really funny and sometimes they’re useful. Just last month there was one up advertising wicker baskets, I was very much pleased to see that one. Got myself a nice basket now and for a good deal!”  
  
Regis thought he could hear Dettlaff growling, too soft for the woman to hear. His poor brother had seen enough humans already today and Castel Ravello’s walls with its many humans inside must feel suffocating to the vampire. He surreptitiously looked at Dettlaff’s hands, which were a good indicator of his stress level. Right now his brother was clenching and unclenching his hands; they’d need to get out of these walls as quickly as they could. **_Calm. Safe._**  
  
“Will you walk with us to the board and tell us which notice is missing?” Regis asked, already slowly walking towards the wooden structure.  
  
The young woman nodded her head, eagerly following. “Sure. Ever since witcher Geralt arrived he’s been helping us with one vineyard infestation or another. Just last week he got rid of some yellow monster flowers near the vineyard, we’re very lucky to have him.”  
  
Regis’ eyebrows lifted in surprise. It wasn’t often that people spoke that fondly of witchers, but it was good to know these people appreciated his friend.  
  
The woman took some time going over the notices before her eyes narrowed and she pointed at the empty spot. “Ah yes, now I remember. There was a notice here. I remember it because it gave me the creeps. It was from a wine merchant, I don’t remember his name, but the notice asked for a witcher to take care of a cave filled with spiders that were the size of pigs and dogs. Chuchote cave, yes, that was the place! The merchant has set up a camp some distance away from it,” a laugh, “if you ask me he’s afraid someone else will come and clear the cave of spiders, taking up his potential storage space.”  
  
“Where may we find this Chuchote cave?” Dettlaff asked, hands clenched.  
  
The woman pointed behind them. “Exit here and follow the south western road, you can hardly miss it.”  
  
Regis bowed low before her. “Thank you kindly for your assistance, young lady. We wish you a pleasant day.”  
  
“Pleased to be of service,” she replied, giving a quick curtsy and walking back to where they’d first met her.  
  
**_Relief._** Dettlaff breathed in deeply. “I wonder if we shall find Geralt before the storm sets in.”  
  
Regis looked at the sky, seeing the clouds approaching. “I think that even if we do find him, we shall be caught in the rain well before we have returned to Corvo Bianco.”  
  
Dettlaff grunted. “Let’s find this cave then.”  
  
*  
  
Following the woman’s directions, the two vampires easily made their way over to Chuchote cave. The grey clouds had caught up to them already and were now unleashing their immense supply on their heads, thick heavy drops soaking everything they touched within mere seconds. Regis sighed. Even here in Toussaint, where the climate was _usually_ more temperate throughout the year, the weather in Lammas could turn from warm and sunny to grey and stormy within a few hours. He much preferred Blathe and Feainn.  
  
Regis’ gaze swiftly roamed the abandoned campsite, taking in some barrels and a discarded wagon.  
  
A panicked neighing alerted him to danger and he looked up, seeing Roach being chased by a large and hairy black spider. An arachnomorph. Seeing the vampires, Roach kicked her hind legs up in the air, creating some space between herself and the scurrying arachnoid, before she started running towards them.  
  
The spider was quick and easily evaded her hooves, jumping backwards and then forwards again, stalking its prey.  
  
“Enough.” Dettlaff misted up into a red fog and swirled towards the spider. When he was on top of it he materialised into his vampiric shape, claws out, and skewered the arachnoid, killing it in one swift move. He then immediately transformed into his human form and turned towards Roach. “Where’s Geralt, Roach?” The young vampire held out his hand towards her.  
  
Roach chomped her teeth at them, her lip pulled back and her tail pressed close to her body.  
  
Dettlaff rolled his eyes; his voice was soft and gentle while he scolded her. “This again? I _know_ you remember us and I have just saved your hide. Yes, we’re monsters but at least we’ll protect you. You’re safe, no need to be frightened.”  
  
Regis blinked. Roach’ eyes actually turned apologetic and she calmed down. She walked up to Dettlaff and touched his hand with her nose.  
  
Dettlaff slowly lifted his other hand and stroked her long forehead. “Good girl.”  
  
From what Regis could see Roach still carried all of Geralt’s belongings, but where was his friend? And where was the wine merchant that had posted the notice?  
  
Regis looked around the campsite again, noticing the track marks on the ground. He clenched his jaw. **_Anger._** After the pleasant encounter with the woman he hadn’t expected this. The contract giver must have been here before, Geralt wouldn’t take on a contract without first talking through the details, but he’d obviously left. The only thing that would redeem the man in Regis’ eyes was if he had left, thinking Geralt had needed help and he had gone to get it. If the contract had gone wrong however he would already be too late, but if the merchant had left just because the wait on someone he’d just employed to perform a dangerous task was too long, ill weather or no, leaving Geralt without any backup of any kind, he had best hope Regis would never learn his identity. If anything had happened to Geralt… **_Rage._**  
  
**_Calm._** Dettlaff walked over to him and pointed towards the cave. “Regis, dear friend, you need to focus. Can you smell that?”  
  
Regis inhaled deeply, searching the air for traces of what Dettlaff had already detected. There. The smell of leather and oil and something else. _Geralt._ “Stay here, Roach,” he told the mare, already misting up and swirling towards the cave entrance. He materialised just outside of it, looked back at Dettlaff, and went inside, searching...  
  
“Stay Roach,” he heard Dettlaff repeat and a moment later his brother was beside him.  
  
Even in the darkness of the cave they could easily make out the boot marks on the ground near the entrance. There were some crates as well, stacked on top of each other. A little further into the cave though the marks disappeared, except for the light imprint of one pair of boots, determinedly progressing further into the cave’s depth.  
  
The cave was silent. Regis couldn’t hear any scuttling of hairy legs, nor the breathing of another being besides himself and Dettlaff. Following the tracks further into the cave they quickly stumbled upon the site of an encounter, where there were at least a dozen arachnomorph bodies strewn over the floor.  
  
Regis perked up a bit and searched the darkness for additional tracks. There were scuff marks on the ground and puddles of what must have been blue blood, it was hard to make out the true colour in this darkness, but it was clearly the spiders’. Sniffing the air, a sense of lightening passed through Regis’ body and he followed his nose, stopping near one of the dead spiders. **_Concern. Fear._**  
  
A sword lay next to the dead arachnomorph, a silver sword, but no witcher. He picked it up and held it close to his body, well away from Dettlaff. That’s when he saw the dark puddle he’d already been smelling. Human blood, his friend was clearly injured. “Geralt!”  
  
Dettlaff placed a hand on his shoulder. “Regis, look over there. There are wet footprints leading that way, and something was dragged further into the cave.”  
  
The two vampires silently followed the tracks and purposefully stopped breathing. They didn’t need to and it may hide any relevant sounds that could elucidate where Geralt may have gone off to. They walked all the way until they’d reached a pool of water. Stalactites hung low from the cave ceiling, some of them reaching all the way down to touch the water. It seemed to be the end of the cave. Still no Geralt.  
  
Regis crouched down and touched a piece of sticky webbing that was stuck to a rock near the water. “Hmm…” He cocked his head and closed his eyes, listening. He could hear the water flowing outward and gurgling, snappy growls. It looked like they were going to do some underwater exploration.  
   
Raising a palm towards Dettlaff, Regis gestured towards the water. “Follow me.” He misted up into his blue-grey fog; the silver sword wouldn’t transform with him, but he managed to keep a hold of it and slipped into the water, dragging the sword behind him.  
  
Dettlaff misted up as well and followed him, staying well out of reach of the silver blade.  
   
There was a tunnel, and it turned out to be actually quite deep and long. The pearl divers of Ard Skellig may have been the only humans skilled enough to pass through it and come out alive on the other side. Geralt would have managed just fine if he’d been able to swallow his whale potion, but somehow Regis didn’t think his young friend had had the opportunity to prepare for a long dive.  
  
Finally, the light grew brighter and the vampires quickly hurried to the tunnel’s end, exiting the water and materialising into their human shapes. Regis was actually quite pleased to see he still gripped Geralt’s blade, it was the first time he’d tried anything like this and he wouldn’t have liked to lose his friend’s belongings.  
  
*  
   
Regis examined their surroundings. The lake and the rock structures surrounding them aroused a vague feeling of familiarity. They were south of Chuchote cave and the closest surface of water that Regis remembered from his maps coincided with the lake where Geralt had received his silver sword Aerondight from the Lady of the Lake.  
   
Gurgling chattering drew his attention to some distance away and Regis could feel his lips curl back in a horrified sneer at what he saw. The water nymph Geralt had mentioned so fondly was nowhere in sight, instead there was an old naked woman with discoloured skin and half of a skeleton tied to her back. She was hunching over something. Regis’ body shifted until he was in his more natural form, his claws and fangs elongating and he couldn’t stop a hiss from escaping his throat when he saw _what_ , or rather _who_ , it was the woman was hunching over. _Geralt!_  
   
The witcher lay unmoving on the muddy ground, his arms trapped to his sides by arachnomorph webbing. His head and upper body were being cradled by long sickle-shaped claws and the disfigured woman, a water hag, was licking a trail from the groove of Geralt's neck all the way up to his cheek. _Her poisonous tongue!_  
   
**_Fury._** Regis’ heart stuttered in his chest and between one blink of his eye and the next he remembered a hypothesis about the origin of water hags. Rumoured to have, once, been naiads, fallen in love with mortal men and losing the veil of eternal youth, becoming subjected to the influence of time. Their bodies aged and withered as time passed and their minds became twisted and depraved. Yet they lived on, immortal and magical beings that they were. When her lover died, she would strap his body to her back in a deformed manner of affection, keeping him close even long after the flesh had started decomposing and only bones remained. Then she would start luring young men to her with immoral proposals, attacking and killing anyone else when she felt like it.  
   
Right now it seemed she was proposing to Geralt, gurgling distorted croons of affection in between poisoning the witcher with every lick of her tongue.  
   
**_Concern._** A growl to his left. “Geralt,” Dettlaff snarled. Regis noticed he’d shifted into his vampiric form as well.  
   
That was the moment the water hag took notice of them and, with a tenderness Regis hadn’t expected of such a creature, carefully placed Geralt down. Then she looked up at them and hissed, diving into the mud right afterwards. The hag popped up a moment later and all of a sudden Regis was hit in the face by something wet.  
   
**_Shock._** He couldn’t see! Regis dropped Geralt's sword and reached up to his face, feeling what he could make out to be mud. Water hags were notorious for throwing mud balls in order to blind their prey, attacking while they were otherwise occupied. He should have remembered that sooner!  
   
A bubbling and squishing sound.  
   
**_Surprise._**  
   
Regis quickly wiped the mud from his face to see what was going on.  
   
Dettlaff's leg was sucked up to his knee into the muck. The vampire snarled and misted up, swirling away and materialising right next to Geralt.  
   
Regis saw the ripples along the mud’s surface a moment too late. She certainly was fast. “Dettlaff!”  
   
The young vampire was just reaching out to Geralt when all of a sudden he disappeared, a small ‘oomph’ coming from his lips. It was no easy feat to surprise a vampire, and a higher one at that, yet that is exactly what the water hag had managed to do. Dettlaff's reddish mist-shape was already swirling up from the hole in the ground and the flustered vampire materialised next to Regis, uncertain how to approach the situation.  
   
Regis snarled. The water hag surfaced right next to Geralt and luckily Regis could this time see her intent on throwing a mud ball. She threw two in quick succession. Pushing Dettlaff out of the way and twisting away from the projectiles himself, neither vampire was hit this time, though by the time that they had turned back around the water hag had thrown Geralt over her shoulder. A small gasp left the witcher’s lips. **_Relief._** Geralt was alive!  
  
The water hag was heading towards the water.  
   
Regis couldn’t allow her to take Geralt. He couldn’t make out the exact state of his friend, but the young witcher wasn’t moving. The water hag may not have intended any harm, only being guilty of dragging Geralt under water for far too long, but the man was bound to have suffered some burns from the poisonous tongue. Infuriated as she was right now and trying to take the witcher into the water the hag posed an immediate danger that needed seeing to. There would be no sparing a fellow monster this time. “Follow me Dettlaff, catch Geralt.”  
   
Dettlaff inclined his head, indicating his readiness.  
  
Regis misted up and materialised right next to the water hag, promptly pulled her arm holding Geralt away from him and then held on tight so she couldn’t dive down into the mud for another surprise attack.  
   
Dettlaff caught Geralt before he could hit the ground and wrapped his arms around the witcher’s chest, turning him away from the necrophage, protecting him.  
   
The water hag was determined not to give up her prize and forcefully jerked the arm in Regis’ hold, twisting her body until she could finally thrust her free claw into Dettlaff's back.  
   
**_Anger._** Regis grasped the water hag’s other arm and pulled it back, ripping the claw skewering Dettlaff free from his brother’s chest. Once he’d done so Regis squeezed the hag’s wrist until he felt the bones in his hold break. The she-being howled, but Regis decided enough was enough and decapitated her with one swift fell. He shifted into his human shape and turned around to see Dettlaff, still in his vampiric form, cradling Geralt's body to his chest. Dettlaff’s wound had already healed, but Regis could see that if the hag’s claw had entered just a few centimetres to the left she’d have seriously injured Geralt.  
  
Dettlaff was in the process of removing the webbing covering the witcher’s body, his claws easily slicing through the sticky material. It took only a few moments for Dettlaff to remove all the cobwebs and turn back to his human form.  
   
Regis moved closer, taking in Geralt's state. A bitemark marred the left side of his neck and was sluggishly bleeding; it looked like fangmarks made by an arachnomorph, not the crooked serrations of a water hag. Good, so the bite hadn’t been poisonous. There was however a trail of thick poisonous saliva covering Geralt’s neck and cheek, the skin beneath it red and blistered. Regis quickly searched through his shoulder bag for a clean cloth and started gently wiping the saliva away; he’d have to clean the area better later, for now it would have to be enough. Then he rummaged around in his bag for a piece of clean cloth and some bandages and started binding Geralt’s neck. Now that the water hag wasn’t opening up the bitemark with every lick of her tongue the wound should clot on its own rather swiftly.  
   
Golden eyes blinked and looked up at him. Geralt started fidgeting in Dettlaff’s hold, twisting his body to the side. His lips were a disconcerting shade of blue and the witcher’s breathing was shallow and fast. He clearly wasn’t getting enough oxygen, but moving about like he was, he was only exacerbating his physical state.  
   
Dettlaff tightened his hold around Geralt. “Quiet, Geralt. You are safe. Calm now.” The young vampire adjusted his grip on the man, shifting Geralt until he was more upright.  
   
Geralt started weakly pulling on Dettlaff's arm. “Leggo,” his hoarse voice pleaded.  
   
Regis moved in closer and placed his hand on top of Geralt's. “Geralt? Please look at me?”  
   
His friend’s reddened eyes turned towards him, but Geralt didn’t stop trying to twist away and relieve himself of Dettlaff’s hold. The witcher coughed and Regis would swear he heard a gurgle deep down his throat.  
   
_Ah._ “Let him go, Dettlaff,” he intoned softly, kneeling down on the muddy ground. The moment Dettlaff had done so Regis took a hold of Geralt's shoulders and carefully rolled him to his side.  
   
Geralt started coughing in earnest the moment he lay down, one hand curling over his heart while his other was pressing tight against his belly. After several hacking coughs some water expelled from his friend’s mouth, but Regis feared that Geralt wouldn’t be able to free his lungs of all the water he had inhaled.  
  
Regis waited until Geralt had finished coughing, tiring himself out completely, before grasping his shoulders and lifting him to rest upright against his chest. The elevated position should make it easier for him to breathe.  
  
Now that Geralt had calmed Regis could more easily observe the state his friend was in. In addition to the bite, the irritated skin and the obvious cyanosis, he spotted a hematoma on his friend’s temple; those seemed to be all the injuries he could determine without removing his armour and clothes. If any of the water hag’s saliva had entered Geralt’s bloodstream through the bite his enhanced metabolism should already be taking care of it, though Regis would be sure to force some Golden Oriole on Geralt, the witcher was bound to have a vial of it in his potions pouch. His lungs though… Geralt had obviously been submerged long enough that he’d aspirated water. The chance of developing pneumonia was certainly there; he would have to keep a close eye on his young friend. **_Concern. Worry._**  
   
Regis stroked a stray strand of white hair up and away from Geralt's cold forehead. “Focus on your breathing, Geralt; strive to make your inhalations as deep as you can.”  
   
Geralt nodded weakly and turned his body, settling down in Regis’ hold. The shivers running through his drenched frame were apparent, yet there was nothing they could do for that now, out here in the rain. He needed to be warm and dry, as soon as possible.  
   
A high-pitched squeak.  
   
Both Regis and Dettlaff looked up, surprised.  
   
A rustling of leaves, followed by the soft pitter patter of small feet.  
   
The source of the noise was soon revealed when tiny creatures frightfully peered at them through the foliage. They weren’t as well hidden as they thought and Regis could easily make out their figures; small humanoid creatures with large bellies, flat noses and pointed ears, wearing only short pants, shoulder capes and tiny hats.  
   
“Griggs,” Dettlaff growled, taking a step back, away from the small creatures. **_Distrust._**  
   
The imps must have decided that they were relatively safe, for, one after another, they left the cover of the bushes and headed towards a small wooden shrine near the water’s edge. There were seven of them in total and as soon as they neared the shrine, the santon Regis now recognised, they started giggling and frolicking about, running and dancing in circles around it, not caring about the rain pouring down on them. What foolish creatures.  
   
One of the griggs, an elder by the looks of him, walked up to the head of the water hag, keeping well away of her mouth. Tiny beady eyes stared at the dead face for a moment, then looked up at them. He nodded and scampered back to the frolicking group, joining in an apparent celebration.  
   
Dettlaff turned his head, eyes squeezed to slits. Regis had the feeling there was more to his behaviour, but unless it became an issue he’d ask his brother the story another time.  
   
“The water hag must have encroached on their territory,” Regis mused, “they wouldn’t have been able to worship at their santon.”  
   
Dettlaff huffed. “And now their santon has been liberated and they can continue their impish behaviour. Come Regis, let’s leave the creatures to celebrate. Geralt’s shivering.”  
   
Regis looked down, seeing and feeling the tremors running through his friend’s body. “Indeed,” he murmured, tightening his grip on Geralt in response. “Come Geralt, let’s get you out of this rain and cold.” He started to gather Geralt securely in his hold when the elder grigg came running up to them.  
   
The small creatures were easily frightened and usually steered clear of non-humans and humans, that is, when they were awake. Regis had heard multiple instances in which human and elf alike had accused mischievous imps of pissing in their milk during the night or putting tangles in the manes of their horse. Yet now this one was running up to three creatures far greater than itself, quite a daring move.  
  
When the grigg was close enough he giggled and reached out his small hand towards Regis’ leggings, pulling on the material. His other hand was raised up towards him, a four leaf clover being offered for inspection.  
   
Regis nodded at the grigg. “A fine and rare specimen of _Trifolium repens_ , the fourth leaf a one in ten thousandth occurrence. You should hold on to that, they are rumoured to bring luck to the one in possession of it.” Regis shifted; they should leave now, they’d tarried too long already.  
   
Geralt stirred in Regis’ arms and his head turned towards the grigg; his friend was looking down at it. His hand came up to Regis’ chest and limply squeezed the fabric of his tunic. “Don’ feel… searching crypts,” Geralt croaked in between laborious breaths, “should share… cat harness… make peace.”  
   
Regis frowned, his young friend wasn’t making a lot of sense. “Cat harness?”  
   
Geralt shook his head. “No! Don’ feel… good, Regis. Can’t… handle... necro-… phages…”  
   
Regis lightly stroked the witcher’s neck. “You won’t have to, no hunting of any kind for you until you have recovered from your present ordeal.”  
   
A high pitched squeak. The elder grigg pulled harder on Regis’ leggings and stood on his tiptoes, holding the four leaf clover up as high as he could reach. His intention was clear.  
   
Regis bowed his head slightly and took the clover, holding it gently in his grasp. “Many thanks,” he told the grigg, and carefully put the talisman away in his bag.  
   
The grigg nodded at him and then spun around, returning to join the other imps in their frolicking and dancing.  
   
Geralt wheezed and started coughing. Trembling hands reached upwards towards the straps on his armour and clawed futilely at the buckles.  
  
Regis lay a hand over Geralts’, stilling his movements. “Allow me.” He gently pushed the trembling hands aside and undid the clasps of the buckles, removing the armour with a few deft moves, including the sword scabbards. Geralt’s larger potions pouch was not on his body, likely strapped to Roach, but on his belt were some vials, no Golden Oriole though.  
  
Once free of his restricting armour, Geralt hunched over and coughed with violent barks, holding his arms tightly pressed to his ribs. When he was done he nearly fell over and Regis had to adjust his hold to bring him back upright, leaning him back against his chest. Geralt returned to his listless state, clearly having trouble keeping his eyes open.  
   
“Calm, my friend. We’ll get you out of this rain.” Regis lightly rubbed his back, knowing the gesture was medically useless but feeling a need to comfort his friend. Even through the thin material of his shirt he could feel the iciness of the witcher’s flesh. “Dettlaff, Geralt’s body temperature is far beyond normal and the trek to Corvo Bianco will be too long with him in this state.”  
   
Dettlaff nodded. “You want to go back to Chuchote cave. Good, Roach should be there as well still.” He helped Regis stand up, allowing the older vampire to keep Geralt cradled to his chest, before moving on to collect Geralt’s discarded armour. He picked up Geralt’s scabbards, the steel sword still sheathed, and walked over to the silver sword. The vampire hesitated for a moment, but then nodded to himself and, wrapping a part of his coat around his hand, he gingerly lifted the weapon and slipped it into its rightful place.  
   
As the two vampires started walking in a northern direction (Regis was _not_ willing to try if he could carry Geralt while in his mist-like shape, the sword had been difficult enough), the sound of high squeaks and giggling slowly died down. When not even their sensitive hearing could make out the noises the griggs made they were already well on their way towards Chuchote cave.  
   
 ~*~  
  
When they arrived at the cave, Roach was still in the vicinity, munching on a patch of blowballs. The mare, like the griggs, seemed not to care about the rain either. Regis saw her ears flick towards them and the mare’s tail flicked upwards, but it was only when Geralt choked a raspy breath and started coughing in Regis’ arms that the mare lifted her head and swiftly turned to face the pair of vampires and her human. She walked up to them, nostrils flaring, softly whinnying and stomping her forehoof to the ground.  
   
Regis forced himself to halt for a moment to show the mare her rider before nodding his head towards the cave. “Dettlaff, will you take care of her and bring Geralt's gear? There should be several blankets and some clothes in one of his bags. And I’ll need his potions pouch, the large one should be somewhere in his saddlebags.”  
   
Dettlaff nodded. “Go inside, brother, I’ll bring in Roach.”  
  
Regis smiled in thanks and hurried inside. It wasn’t any warmer in here compared to outside, but they would soon remedy that. At least it was dry and sheltered… and free of any troublesome and hazardous arachnomorphs. Regis walked a bit deeper down into the cave and knelt down, lowering Geralt to sit on the hard floor to free up the use of one of his arms, while keeping the man’s upper body cradled upright against his chest. The vampire rested his palm on Geralt’s forehead. _Too cold._  
   
Geralt nuzzled into the touch and looked up at him with weary eyes. “S-s-sleep?”  
  
Regis stroked his fingers through the white hair, being careful with his long nails. “Not yet, my friend. Stay awake for a moment longer if you can. You are not, as you humans call it, ‘out of the woods’ just yet.”  
   
Horse hooves clicking on a stone floor echoed through the cave, making Geralt twist around in Regis’ hold, looking for the source. With each struggle for breath Regis could hear a crackling sound. Not good.  
  
He followed Geralt’s line of sight, towards the entrance of the cave. Dettlaff had guided Roach inside and was in the process of untacking her, or trying to at least; whenever Dettlaff reached for the straps of her saddle the mare turned her body away so the vampire couldn’t reach. She started skittering, trying to move past Dettlaff while keeping well out reach of his groping hands; looking prepared to bolt towards Geralt at any moment, _through_ Dettlaff if he stood in her way for much longer.  
  
“Dettlaff,” Regis called, “let Roach come, she looks prepared to trample through you; I’m certain that once she’s near Geralt she’ll calm down enough for you to untack her without any fuss.”  
   
Dettlaff huffed, but took a step to the side, allowing Roach to move past him.  
  
Roach quickly took the opportunity to move deeper into the cave, coming to a standstill less than a metre away from Regis and her rider. Uncertain, she took a step closer and oh so gently nuzzled Geralt’s cheek, whinnying softly.  
  
“G-good… g-girl,” Geralt croaked, lifting a trembling hand up to her snout and giving it one stroke before returning the hand to his lap. “Now l-listen to... ‘llaff ‘n ‘gis.”  
  
Dettlaff had joined them as well now. When Geralt turned silent he slowly reached out to Roach’ neck and started gently stroking it. “Come Roach, give them some space. If you want to help, stay still so I can retrieve the items Geralt needs.”  
  
Roach’ ears twitched, but she lifted her head and took a few steps back, quietly observing and finally allowing Dettlaff near. The vampire quickly set to his task.  
  
Regis meanwhile moved Geralt a little bit forward so that he could reach for the bottom of his undershirt. “These wet clothes need to come off, you’re far too cold and I’ll need to have a closer look at your neck,” he calmly informed his friend, already pulling on the sodden material, freeing it from Geralt’s trousers and lifting it upwards. He was gratified to notice that Geralt was trying to help him, feebly moving first one arm, then the next. Within a few moments his friend’s chest was bared.  
  
“C-cold…” Geralt turned in Regis’ hold, his teeth chattering, and curled up against the vampire’s chest, tucking his head under Regis’ chin.  
  
Regis gently rubbed a hand along the witcher’s back, wishing he could grant Geralt’s unspoken request and hold him for a while longer, sharing his body heat. Perhaps in his current state his body did even feel warm to his friend, but a higher vampire’s body temperature was well below that of a human. Geralt’s body needed to be restored to his own species’ temperature. “Bear with us for a moment longer, dear friend. Dettlaff and I will do all we can in order to get you warmed up.”  
   
Geralt’s breath stuttered, then he breathed, once, shakily, before he started coughing harshly for at least a full minute. Pink frothy sputum had appeared on his lips and was dribbling down to stain Regis’ tunic. When the attack stopped the man slumped against him, exhausted, his breathing shallow and fast.  
  
Dettlaff had just succeeded in taking care of Roach and obtaining the items Regis had requested. He placed a pair of blankets down on the floor next to Regis, a set of dry clothes next to that and, lastly, Geralt’s potions pouch. He peered down at Geralt, his brow furrowed seeing the witcher’s half undressed state, blue eyes settling on the man’s leather trousers. The vampire took one of the blankets and, together with Regis’ help, wrapped it around Geralt’s shoulders, tucking the man’s arms within its folds. “How may I help further, brother?”  
   
Regis nodded towards Geralt’s potions pouch. “In his pack there should be a vial of Golden Oriole, a few sips of that potion should neutralise the effect of the water hag’s poison, both the remnants clinging to Geralt’s skin, as well as the amounts that have entered his bloodstream.”  
  
Dettlaff growled softly, revealing his fangs. **_Frustration._** “What…” he gritted out, “does it look like?”  
  
**_Apology._** Regis touched his brother’s hand. “It would be a long vial containing a reddish-golden liquid.”  
  
The younger vampire calmed down and turned his hand upwards, squeezing Regis’ own before moving over to Geralt’s pouch and retrieving the requested item, handing the vial to Regis. “Is this the correct one?”  
  
Regis pulled out the stopper and carefully sniffed the substance. **_Relief._** “It is, Dettlaff, thank you.” He held the vial to his friend’s lips. “Geralt? I need you to take several sips of your Golden Oriole.”  
   
Geralt breathed out loudly through his nose, but did his best to swallow several mouthfuls of the liquid, grimacing at the taste.  
   
Now for the next part. It was a good thing for Geralt that Regis respected his clothes enough not to just cut off the tightly clinging material. Wet leather trousers were always a struggle to remove. “Dettlaff, if you would be so kind as to roll down his trousers I shall hold him steady and lift his hips…” Regis reached for the lacings on Geralt’s codpiece.  
   
One of Geralt’s hands struggled free from the blanket and tried to push Regis’ invading hands away. “Nnnn…”  
   
Regis stilled, hands hovering over the laces. He rubbed his cheek against Geralt’s temple. “Shh, Geralt. Your trousers need to come off; they’re wet and cold and are leeching away whatever body heat you have remaining. We’ll keep your virtue intact, I promise.”  
   
Geralt returned his arm within the blanket and lifted his head, meeting Regis’ gaze. “S-sorry.”  
   
Regis smiled wryly. “I apologise for the manhandling, dear friend. Bear with us for just a moment longer and we’ll have you warm again post-haste. Trust us.”  
   
“Y-you… always,” Geralt slurred, rolling his head until he’d managed to tuck it beneath Regis’ chin again.  
   
Regis quickly undid the laces and nodded at Dettlaff to continue. “Be careful with his right leg, Dettlaff. Especially in this kind of weather his old injuries pain him.”  
   
The young vampire nodded and first removed Geralt’s boots before reaching up and, together with Regis, carefully removed the clinging leather trousers, followed by Geralt’s drenched braies.  
  
Regis let his gaze rove quickly over the witcher’s body, looking for injuries and detecting a dark bruise in the shape of a handprint on his right hip, but luckily Regis didn’t see any other injuries besides the ones he was already aware of. A quick rearrangement of the blanket around Geralt’s shoulders had the shivering human wrapped in its folds from shoulder to toes. He’d leave this one on for just a moment so the material could soak up most of the moisture clinging to his friend’s skin. In a minute he’d pat Geralt down and get some dry clothes on him.  
  
Regis reached up and started unwrapping the wet bandage from Geralt’s neck. He inspected the mark of the bite closely and sniffed the area. His blood had a sour and warm smell to it and it was just _wrong_ , but the Golden Oriole should quickly take care of the worst of the poisoning. There were still some faint traces of saliva clinging to Geralt’s skin and, cursing quietly, Regis retrieved a clean cloth from his satchel and wetted it with some water. He gently cleaned Geralt’s neck and face, making sure that this time he’d removed every trace of the poisonous substance.  
   
Dettlaff meanwhile had moved to the front of the cave and came back several moments later carrying a large wooden crate. “These crates near the cave entrance...” he started, setting the crate down and pulling off the lid, “it seems like the merchant was bold and confident the first time he ordered these wine crates moved in. There is a score of them stacked up along the wall near the entrance. More importantly, the wood is dry and should serve to sustain a fire.” He started in on the crate, ripping planks loose and breaking them into smaller pieces and started to create a small campfire. Once the flame had caught on the wood he walked up to Regis.  
   
By now the blanket Geralt was wrapped in was certain to have become damp from the water that had clung to the man’s skin.  
   
“Help me get him into his dry clothes?” Regis asked, moving Geralt closer to the fire.  
   
Geralt exhaled loudly and pressed his forehead into Regis’ chest. Regis could hear his teeth chattering even with his mouth closed.  
   
“Of course,” Dettlaff replied and knelt down next to them.  
   
This time Geralt was less cooperative, intent on staying curled up against Regis and huddling deeper into his blanket as if fearing that whatever heat he’d managed to obtain would be taken away from him.  
  
Regis rubbed his back through the blanket. “Come now, Geralt. Let Dettlaff and I get you into some dry clothes and replace this nasty wet blanket with a dry one; you’ll feel better afterwards, I promise.”  
  
With a sigh, Geralt nodded and gave in, allowing the blanket to be taken from him and letting the vampires dress him, too weak from the poison and the effects of his near drowning to perform the task himself. Within a few minutes he was dressed again.  
  
Dettlaff handed over the dry blanket. “Shall I find some stones to put in the fire?”  
  
Regis wrapped the blanket tightly around Geralt’s frame and lifted the witcher into his lap. He blinked. “That’s an excellent idea, Dettlaff.”  
   
Before Dettlaff had risen, Roach whinnied and started moving restlessly. The mare whuffled and sank down on her front knees a little away from the fire.  
   
“Roach, what are you doing?” Regis’ brow furrowed.  
   
The mare continued to lay herself flat out on the cavern floor until she lay on her belly, her hind legs turned a bit to the side and her front legs pulled close to her body. She reminded Regis a bit of cat with its legs tucked under its body. Roach moved her head towards the blanket and gripped it in her teeth, pulling the material once before looking up and then moving her head, touching her nose to her side.  
  
**_Curious._** Was she offering what he thought she was offering? It was a good idea nonetheless: a horse’s body temperature was equal to a human’s and neither Dettlaff or Regis’ barely lukewarm flesh would aid in warming up Geralt sufficiently.  
  
Dettlaff raised an eyebrow in surprise when Regis shuffled closer until he was next to the mare. Roach rested her head on the ground, her right cheek touching the ground.  
   
Regis unfolded one part of the blanket wrapped around Geralt and arranged his friend so that he was lying on his side; his back to the fire and his belly lined up along Roach’ side. He guided Geralt’s head so it rested on top of the mare’s broad neck, then positioned the remainder of the blanket over both of them; Roach’ body heat would contribute greatly to restoring the witcher to his normal temperature.  
  
Still, Regis wondered, how long would Roach actually be able to remain in this position? She seemed determined to help her rider, but lying down as she was couldn’t be comfortable for a horse. Regis sought out her eyes, seeing the determined glint in the brown orbs. “All right, Roach, but give us a warning before you get restless and decide to stand up; one wrong move and you could squash Geralt.”  
   
The mare flicked her ears, but otherwise kept still.  
  
Regis nodded. Good.  
  
Geralt shuffled forward and pressed himself closer against Roach’ warm body, burying his face into the brown fur of her neck. “Sleep… now?”  
   
Regis stroked Geralt’s shoulder through the blanket. “Go ahead, Geralt, get some rest. We shall depart in a few hours.”  
   
“Hnn…” Geralt rapidly drifted off to sleep.  
  
Dettlaff came up behind Regis and sat down across from him, near Roach’ hind legs; ready for their vigil.  
   
~*~  
   
Regis kept a close ear on Geralt’s breathing all throughout the evening and into the night.  
  
Soon after the witcher had fallen asleep the slight gurgling sounds had deteriorated into a wet crackling and a whistling wheeze trailed after every shallow exhale.  
  
Roach’ ears flicked with worry with every sound her rider made, but she stayed still, determined to do what she could to help. Regis wondered if her loyalty had anything to do with their adventure with the greytop and the umbra; Geralt’s retelling of their shenanigans during that adventure had been a true delight to hear.  
   
He reached out to touch Geralt’s forehead, confirming what he feared. In the few hours that they’d settled down his friend had acquired a fever and small patches of red stood out on his otherwise pale cheeks.  
  
At the touch, Geralt flinched and watery cat-like eyes opened in a panic. He struggled to look behind him, where Regis was kneeling, not having any luck as he only managed to roll himself tighter into the blanket. Regis, realising his mistake, withdrew his hand and moved into Geralt’s line of sight, just in time to see blue-tinged lips curling back in a sneer as the witcher hissed through his teeth.  
   
“You’re safe, Geralt, though you are running a fever, and I fear you have the beginnings of pneumonia. In the morning we shall continue on to Corvo Bianco and have you resting in a nice and warm bed. Yennefer was summoned by the Duchess, but she said she would be back within a day at the most. Perhaps she can do something about your illness.”  
   
Geralt blinked a few times and looked down, his brow furrowing at the brown fur in his face. Then the witcher looked up, recognition back in his eyes. “Re-gis,” he croaked hoarsely, suppressing the urge to cough and failing.  
  
Regis waited calmly until the fit had passed. Bloodied sputum landed in Roach’ fur. **_Concern._**  
  
“Regis?” Geralt tried to speak again, voice barely above a whisper in an attempt not to aggravate his throat.  
  
“Hush Geralt, you shouldn’t speak. Rest as much as you can…”  
  
A struggle was going on inside the blanket and Regis took pity on his friend, untucking one end of the material to allow his friend better movement. The moment he could, Geralt’s hand rushed out to grab the vampire’s wrist. “G-got… bit,” the man whispered in a frenzy, “gonna… turn. Turn? ‘Gis? Spi-spider!”  
  
Regis turned the hand Geralt had clasped around his wrist and held it between his own, lightly stroking the skin on the back of his hand. “Hush now, you cleared out the caves, there are no arachnomorphs in the area anymore. Dettlaff took care of a straggler.”  
  
Geralt’s breathing hitched and he pulled his hand back. Regis let him go. “No! Bit… what if… _I_ ‘come… change! Wh-what… l-look like?” Geralt shuddered.  
  
Regis understood more or less what Geralt was rambling on about. He sighed and looked intently into the man’s eyes. “Don’t worry, dear friend. As a prestigious barber surgeon with years of experience with all sorts of cuts and bites from a variety of animals, monsters and even humans, I can assure you you’ll not be turned into any sort of arachnoid.”  
   
“‘Giss!” the witcher whined pitifully.  
  
Dettlaff moved from his position near Roach’ hind legs and moved into Geralt’s line of sight. “You won’t turn into a spider, Geralt.”  
  
Geralt breathed harshly and nodded at the vampire. “Good... Yen... ha-hates spi-spiders.” He lay his head back down on Roach’ neck, calming down. “Wouldn’t... been able... c-come h-home.”  
   
Regis gently patted his shoulder. “I wouldn’t have thought a sorceress like her would be afraid of spiders.”  
   
“Not af-afraid.” Geralt rolled his head so he could look up at Regis. “ _H-hates_ ’em. S-she’d sic… broom af’r me…” he started coughing again, curling up into Roach’ body heat afterwards, barely hanging on to consciousness.  
   
Regis touched his hand to Geralt’s forehead again, pleased that it was accepted, and lightly started stroking the fevered brow. “Hush now. You’ll not be turned into a gigantic spider, so she’ll have no reason to swat you with a broom. Go back to sleep, you need your strength.”  
  
His words fell on deaf ears. Geralt was already asleep.  
  
~*~  
  
When morning came Geralt’s condition had deteriorated to such an extent that Regis rummaged around in Geralt’s potions bag, looking for either some raven potion, as his friend had named the herbal concoction he had taught him, or a variety of swallow. He was pleased when he found the raven potion; in essence it did everything that swallow was meant to do, but the herbal remedy was far less harmful to a mortal’s body.  
  
Roach’ ears flickered and she whinnied softly.  
  
Regis quickly pocketed the vial and lifted Geralt into his arms, allowing Roach to rise to her feet. The witcher didn’t even wake, but instinctively turned his head into Regis’ chest, his ear coming to rest over his heart.  
  
“Thank you, Roach,” Regis nodded at the remarkable patient mare, watching her leave the cave.  
  
He sat down next to Dettlaff, who had tended to the fire all throughout the night, and threw a worried look at his brother. **_Concern._** The crackling and gurgling in Geralt’s lungs would even be audible to a half-deaf human and the heat now radiated off the man. Aspiration pneumonia. Regis really hoped that Yennefer would be able to heal her lover from this illness.  
  
Regis quickly uncorked the vial and held it to his friend’s lips, stroking his throat gently in order to get him to swallow. “There you go, that’s a good lad.”  
  
Dettlaff stood up and silently started gathering their belongings, preparing for their trip back to Corvo Bianco.  
  
*  
  
When everything was packed up, Regis wrapped Geralt tightly in the blanket and walked outside, where Dettlaff had just finished saddling Roach. The rain had stopped and the sky was a clear blue, with not a cloud in sight. “She can only fit two riders at most, you ride with Geralt,” the younger vampire spoke, stroking Roach’ neck.  
  
Regis walked up to the mare and, together with Dettlaff’s aid, managed to seat Geralt in the saddle. That achieved, he quickly misted up, materialising behind his friend, and wrapped an arm around the witcher’s waist, guiding the man’s head to his clavicle.  
  
Geralt’s head rolled to the side and golden eyes opened to slits, meeting Dettlaff’s gaze.  
  
Dettlaff tapped Regis’ leg, a determined look on his face. He clearly had something on his mind.  
  
“What is it, Dettlaff?”  
  
“I want you to ride at full speed towards Corvo Bianco. I shall follow behind.” With that the younger vampire misted up into a red fog and swirled in a circle around them. Roach accepted his mist-like presence, for once not startling or creating a fuss; the mare was getting used to their vampiric oddities.  
  
Geralt tensed in his arms. “Dett-” a cough, “laff! Re-gis… gone!” He reached up and pulled on Regis’ arm.  
  
Hearing the panic in Geralt’s voice, Dettlaff materialised next to Roach again, confused. “I’d merely shifted to an alternate form, Geralt.”  
  
Regis hugged Geralt closer to him. “We’re vampires, remember? Dettlaff simply ‘puffed up into a wisp of smoke’, as you are so fond of calling it.”  
  
**_Indignation._** Dettlaff crossed his arms over his chest, no doubt wondering how anyone could call their form a puff of smoke, as Regis had when he’d first heard Geralt refer to his alternate form as _smoke_. They were more alike to mist than to smoke, more fluid than solid in that shape, but he supposed that a mortal couldn’t sense the difference.  
  
“Forgot…” the witcher whispered, “a-always… forget.”  
  
Regis rubbed his whiskered cheek against Geralt’s temple and grabbed Roach’ reins. “No reason to fret, Geralt. Dettlaff’s going to ‘puff up’ again, but he’ll stay close by.” He clicked his tongue, encouraging Roach to start moving.  
  
Dettlaff misted up and swirled in front of Geralt’s face for a moment, allowing the man to see him clearly before he moved lower, beside Roach. If anyone looked their way they’d have a difficult time spotting Dettlaff. Perfect.  
  
After allowing Roach to warm up her limbs, Regis leaned himself and Geralt a bit forward in their seat and clucked at the mare, the sign Geralt had taught her to shift to a gallop. The movement was a bit more jarring than Horse’s pace, but from what he understood from Geralt not every horse was taught that particular gait. Perhaps it was time to learn an old horse some new tricks?  
  
In less than an hour the vineyard of Corvo Bianco was in sight. Roach’ gait had alternated between a gallop and a trot, but Regis understood she couldn’t keep up the rushed pace, no horse could. Regis allowed her to set the pace when she went through the main gate and, seeing her stable on the left, she gladly went over to it, her sides heaving.  
  
Making sure no one was there to spot them, Dettlaff materialised into his human form. “Hand Geralt over to me, Regis. It’ll be easier.” He held his arms out to him.  
  
Regis gently hooked his hand underneath Geralt’s right knee and lifted it, manoeuvring the man’s leg over Roach’ neck, before lowering his friend into Dettlaff’s hold.  
  
The young vampire carefully held Geralt in his arms while he waited for Regis to dismount, then handed the man back to him. Geralt didn’t respond to any of the jostling, besides tiredly opening his eyes and looking around, squinting at his surroundings. “You go inside and tend to Geralt, I’ll stay here and take care of Roach.”  
  
Regis nodded. “I’ll see you inside, thank you Dettlaff.” With that he hurried up the stairs leading towards the villa and, stumbling upon the door, decided kicking the wood was actually preferred over messing around with the door knob.  
  
After a few kicks a perplexed majordomo opened the door. Anything he had prepared to say, however, fell from his lips, seeing Regis carrying Geralt. “Master Regis, follow me!” Barnabas-Basil held the door open wider and waited for Regis to get inside before hurrying to the left and opening the door to Geralt and Yennefer’s bedroom. That must mean that Yennefer hadn’t returned yet from her errand for the Duchess, the majordomo wouldn’t intrude on the couple’s bedroom at such an early hour otherwise.  
  
It was the second time that Regis had entered this bedroom, though the vampire blinked, seeing the white unicorn in the corner. He looked down at his friend and shook his head fondly. Barnabas-Basil looked unperturbed by the stuffed animal and Regis inwardly lauded the majordomo for his loyalty and steadfast service.  
  
Dazed golden eyes peered up at him and the witcher smiled. “Yen… _real_ … fond…” he whispered, obviously having witnessed him looking. He seemed more aware than before, the raven potion seemed to be doing something. Good.  
  
Regis huffed. “Incorrigible youngsters…” He walked over to the bed and gently lay Geralt down on the covers.  
   
“Is there any way that I may be of service, master Regis?” Barnabas-Basil asked, anxiously hovering near.  
  
“Yes master Foulty, if you would be so kind as to bring me some water and soap, some soothing tea with a spoonful of honey and tell me where I can find Geralt’s nightwear I would be much obliged. I’d like to get him as comfortable as possible while we await Yennefer’s return.”  
  
“Sir’s nightclothes are in that chest.” Barnabas-Basil pointed towards a large chest at the foot of the bed. “I’ll return with the water and soap in a minute and prepare the tea. A moment, please.” The majordomo excused himself.  
  
Geralt looked up at Regis as the vampire lifted him up so he could remove Geralt’s sweat soaked shirt. “Really… s-stop… meeting… this way,” Geralt whispered, “Yen… get… jealous.”  
   
“Hasn’t she told you? She said she’s willing to share you with me, so I’m not concerned about your sorceress.” Regis managed to lift the shirt over Geralt’s head and smoothly rolled it down his arms, ignoring the wide eyes staring perplexedly up at him.  
  
They were interrupted by Barnabas-Basil entering the bedroom again, delivering the promised items, as well as a towel. Seeing Geralt more or less upright and aware the majordomo stood up straighter and crossed his hands behind his back. “The tea should be ready in a couple of more minutes, Sir. Do you require anything else?”  
  
Geralt’s head lolled on his neck, but his eyes sought out those of his majordomo. “B.B… pouch?” He spoke louder than a whisper this time, immediately setting off another coughing attack.  
  
**_Concern._** Butterflies fluttered in Regis’ belly and he bent his friend over, gently rubbing his back. “Hush now, not a word from you until you’re feeling better.” He looked up at the other human. “Our friend Dettlaff should be outside in the stables, taking care of Roach. Would you go to him and ask him for Geralt’s potions pouch?”  
  
“At once, master Regis.”  
  
Geralt stayed hunched over for a while longer, focusing on breathing. When he had finally calmed down the witcher grabbed his discarded shirt and brought it up to his mouth, swiping it at his lips before discarding it on the bed next to him.  
  
Regis could see and smell the blood on it. “Not a word, Geralt,” he told his friend seriously, allowing Geralt’s upper body to rest against his shoulder. Reaching out to the water and soap, Regis quickly gave Geralt’s exposed flesh a quick wash and dried him off with a towel. “Just nod or shake your head: can you manage to stay upright for a moment?”  
  
Geralt nodded, so, slowly, Regis moved away. He waited a few seconds to make sure Geralt could indeed stay upright and not fall over the second he had turned, then quickly moved to the side to rummage around in the chest along the foot of the bed, searching for some suitable nightwear. Finding what he wanted, he returned to Geralt. “Very good, dear friend, just a few more moments, then you can rest undisturbed.”  
  
“Hnn.” Geralt hummed, moving his arms to help Regis get the night shirt on him.  
  
Regis lay him down on the bed and managed to carefully take off Geralt’s trousers. At least this pair hadn’t been leather, nor had they been completely soaked, which made the task so much easier. Repeating the steps of before, Regis put on some fresh braies afterwards. Then he turned back a corner of the bedcovers. “In to bed with you, now. The only thing you’re allowed to do is drink, sleep and eat until Yennefer has returned.”  
  
“Sure,” Geralt whispered at him, eagerly crawling between the sheets with Regis’ aid. Once settled, the witcher closed his eyes.  
  
*  
  
Later in the day, just after midday, Regis and Dettlaff were sitting at the long table, together with Barnabas-Basil. All looked up when all of a sudden the front door of the villa slammed open and Yennefer entered the hall with storming steps.   
  
Seeing the two vampires, Yennefer halted just inside the doorway and narrowed her eyes at them. “Regis, Dettlaff? Where’s Geralt?”  
  
Regis slowly stood up and walked towards her, reaching for her hand. “Geralt’s in bed, Yennefer. I’m glad you’ve returned, he could use your help.” He squeezed her hand lightly before letting her go, watching as the sorceress swiftly stormed towards her and Geralt’s bedroom.  
  
Violet eyes swiftly settled on her ill lover the moment she’d stepped through the doorway. “Regis, what’s wrong with him?” Yennefer sat down next to Geralt and tenderly stroked his forehead. Geralt was fast asleep. The sorceress cocked her head, listening intently.  
  
Regis sighed. “I fear he’s suffering from aspiration pneumonia.” His dark eyes sought out hers. “Can you use your magic to heal him?”  
  
A determined gleam appeared in Yennefer’s eyes. “I shall try. At the very least my magic will be able to heal the worst of his condition. You are welcome to stay for my attempt, Regis; perhaps you would be willing to tell me all that has happened?”  
  
“I’ll gladly stay and tell you. Is there anything you need before you start your attempt?”  
  
“No, I’m fine.” Yennefer lay down next to Geralt and lightly kissed his cheek. Placing one hand over his heart, she quietly whispered some words in Aen Seidhe and a light appeared in the cup of her palm. “All right, Regis start telling me.”  
  
Several hours later the light shining in Yennefer’s hand shimmered and flickered out and the sorceress tiredly cuddled up to her lover before falling asleep herself.  
  
Regis held his breath and listened. Geralt’s lungs sounded clear again, no crackling, no wheezing, and his heart beat steadily in his chest. The flush on his cheeks was gone. Yennefer had done it. **_Relief.  
  
_** He quietly slipped from the room, leaving his two friends to their well deserved rest.  
  
*  
  
It was late in the evening when Geralt entered the living room, where Regis and Dettlaff were sitting at the table, Regis quietly reading and Dettlaff whittling away at a piece of wood.  
  
Regis looked up and smiled at his friend, who looked much improved. The only indication that something had been wrong with him was the slow pace with which he carefully shuffled around the table. “Geralt! It’s good to see you up and about. How do you feel?” Regis stayed seated, but his sharp eyes followed every move the witcher made.  
  
“Much better.” Throwing a fond look back to the bedroom door, Geralt replied. “Yen’s healed me, but the effort exhausted her. I wouldn’t expect her to rise anytime before noon tomorrow.”  
   
**_Concern._** “Is there anything we can do to help?” Dettlaff asked quietly, following Geralt’s gaze.  
   
Geralt looked back and met the vampire’s eyes. “That’s kind of you Dettlaff, but the best treatment is for Yen to sleep off her exhaustion.”  
   
Regis frowned. “What do you have there?” He nodded at Geralt’s hand.  
  
Geralt held up a small leather harness. “It fell out of Yen’s pocket, but I don’t understand how she acquired it.”  
  
“What is it? It looks like a dog collar but there’s something off about it.” Regis raised a finger to his lips, trying to conceive its purpose.  
  
“Close. It’s a cat harness,” Geralt threw it onto the table, “one that griggs or _imps_ use to ride cats.”  
  
Dettlaff snarled softly.  
  
Regis rolled his eyes at his brother. “Yesterday the Duchess demanded that Yennefer investigate a collapsed bridge near Lebioda’s statue.”  
  
Geralt groaned, rubbing his palm over his face. “If she had this in her possession, better bottle up some of your mandrake, Regis. I have a gut feeling about what’s _imp_ eding the construction.”  
   
“In a day, Geralt. It would ease my mind if you would rest up from your ordeal.”  
   
Geralt shrugged. “I’m good to go first thing tomorrow.”  
   
Regis lifted an eyebrow at him. **_Fond exasperation._** “Yet you are still shuffling around like a feeble old man.”  
   
**_Confusion._** “Do you not wish to make certain your lover is all right before departing?” Dettlaff asked, uncertain.  
   
Geralt lips twitched upwards as he shuffled over to the younger vampire, putting a hand on his shoulder; he squeezed it lightly. “Never intended otherwise, Dettlaff. I was just teasing Regis.” Letting go, he looked up at Regis. “I’m going back to bed now, just came to let you know how we were doing; I know how you two get.”  
   
“Much appreciated, Geralt, and while you roost I shall show Dettlaff around Corvo Bianco’s grounds.”  
  
Geralt looked thoughtful. “It’s the middle of the night. That might actually be a good time for some quiet sight-seeing. All right.” The witcher rubbed at his eye, yawning widely. “If you need anything before either of us wakes up…”  
   
“Yes yes, we shall ask either master Foulty or miss de Trastamara.” Regis waved him away.  
   
Geralt turned around and slowly sauntered back to his bedroom. “Night Regis, Dettlaff… and thank you, if it hadn’t been for you two I would be dead now.”  
  
“You’re welcome.” Dettlaff narrowed his eyes at him, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Good night, Geralt.”  
  
“Pleasant dreams, Geralt,” Regis added. “Once you and Yennefer have rested up, Dettlaff and I shall accompany you on this next contract. If your gut feeling is correct I’d like to be there when you discover the source of the bridge’s collapse. After all, for such an _imp_ ortant job assigned to Yennefer, by the Duchess no less, we must _imp_ ose our every effort to successfully resolve this matter.”  
   
Geralt ducked his head and groaned softly in mock irritation. Then he quietly disappeared into his bedroom.  
  
**_Affection._** Regis was sure their next contract was going to be an interesting one; dealing with mischief created by some small trouble makers for once instead of encountering any real danger. Looking back at Dettlaff, Regis smiled, revealing his fangs. “Care for a walk, Dettlaff? Corvo Bianco is beautiful this time of night…”  
  
**The end**


End file.
